


The Next Door Neighbor is a CamBoy

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Summer, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, camboy thor, more tags added later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-06-28 00:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's the start of summer and Loki tries to balance his attraction to his hot new next door neighbor, his favorite webcam model, and the friend he games with online--little does he know they're all the same person.-Loki’s eyes feel itchy. His heart pounds. Maybe he’s worse off than he thought if he’s so affected by something so trivial as ThunderGod not doing a show for one night—even though Loki can’t even remember the last time, if ever, ThunderGod has missed a show. He clicks off the page in disgust at himself and slides further down in his chair.He’s never even seen the guy’s face! He doesn’t get to feel sad. He wouldn’t know him apart from some guy next to him at the grocery store. Loki feels stupid and considers deleting his entire account. It can’t be healthy, right? It can’t.





	1. Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blipspan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipspan/gifts).



> For Blipspan who has been so wonderfully patient for their fics!
> 
> This is the first of a two part Marvel Trumps Hate fic set! This story will be five 2k chapters, and the other will be a collection of oneshots from a fun list of prompts!

It’s over ninety-five degrees out and only a week into the start of Summer.  
  
Loki already hates it.  
  
Loki feels gross, drenched halfway to drowning in sweat, the bun he pulled his hair back in is not helping in the least. He should be swimming with his brothers out back. But someone’s moving in next door, can hear the heavy metal drop of the moving truck as it's unloaded, the steady stream of voices he can’t make out drifting in through his cracked windows. And Loki doesn’t feel like being outside in swim shorts with his brand new neighbors free to look their nosy fill. He has more important things to do. Better things than to let strangers get an eyeful of him, sweat-soaked and red faced and altogether entirely uncomfortable and not fit for anyone’s eyes.  
  
Instead he grabs an ice cold bottle of water from the fridge, closes and locks his bedroom door and settles in at his desk for what will be a few hours. Clicks open the first tab with its familiar curly-cue orange logo and logs in to the account he’s had for a year now. He never thought he’d have it long enough to tab it, let alone consider it an almost daily ritual. Had started it as a joke, one day too curious to not check out the apparently _extremely hot and seductive ThunderGod_ , in Sif’s own words. She hadn’t been wrong. And in the year since Loki started watching, ThunderGod has gone from soft dips and valleys to a three dimensional map of vascular, muscled geography. People didn’t just _do_ that.  
  
Maybe he’d been bored one night before bed too, which never meant anything good. It’s how he got an ill-advised septum piercing last winter when his brothers had dragged him to the mall for a late dinner. Loki still remembers a very drunk Helblindi tugging on it, and the subsequent tear. He can still find the scar if he feels around for it.  
  
Loki sinks down in his chair, sticks the water bottle under his chin and opens ThunderGod’s page. A new banner has been added. Big blue lettering that might as well have been advertising for a car dealership with how gaudy it is if it wasn’t for the golden spread of abs beneath it. Whoever took the picture captured the layer of blond hair trailing over his navel, shining in the light. ThunderGod couldn’t have managed such an angle himself.  
  
_Soon_ , is all it says. Loki licks his lips, wondering what it could mean.  
  
He keeps scrolling because the stream hasn’t started yet. Usually ThunderGod starts his streams at five in the evening on the dot, Monday to Saturday. Sometimes Sunday, if a special goal was met each Friday.  
  
Keeps scrolling. There’s no new photo sets. Loki hovers over the first one ThunderGod ever uploaded. He’s never bought one, but lately he’s been wanting to. Has tried to figure out why he suddenly has such an urge to own a collection of nude shots of this golden stranger for all of five dollars.  
  
But he feels like it’d be crossing some line, actually giving ThunderGod money. And that’s weird right? To have followed the guy for a year, always a grey in chat. Something truly terrible to the community, of course from what he’s figured out by searching around the rest of the site. Greys usually got kicked, or banned, or filtered out of chats because they were, essentially, quite useless. Greys didn’t have money to spend. No money meant no tokens, meant no paycheck for the streamer. They weren’t worth the time or effort it took to garner a relationship with every single one who passed through.  
  
ThunderGod is different though. ThunderGod always says hello to Loki when he pops up in the viewer roll. ThunderGod also always answers his questions, seems happy to carry on in small conversations that Loki starts in chat despite the slew of replies from blues and purples who feel like he’s stealing attention. He ignores those ones, because ThunderGod never seems insulted that Loki’s active in the chat most days. Loki never PM’s him either, or begs to be PM’d, like some of the others do. He sits with his balance of exactly zero tokens and waits for ThunderGod’s show to start. Expects absolutely nothing in return, and ends up getting more than he thinks he should.  
  
Loki likes to watch for the whole show, or as long as he’s able. He likes to sit and watch and listen to all the ways ThunderGod grunts and groans and moans—those are Loki’s favorite—and ignore how hard he gets, because that’s too much too, it seems like. Too much to pay this anonymous body belonging to an anonymous face to tease and poke and prod at his own—extremely fit, very nicely tanned, unwaxed—self just so Loki can get off at the end of it.  
  
Loki doesn’t like that.  
  
He sighs and goes back to the top of the page. The chat is already full of hangers-on. They flirt and spam the chat with gifs of porn and dribbling cartoons and Loki wishes he could be the only one there. Wishes he didn’t have to see all the random, gross shit everyone else loved to spew constantly, beggars for a body and an acknowledgment of their existence.  
  
He’s not like them.  
  
It’s three times now he’s checked the time in the past minute.  
  
Okay, maybe he’s a little like them.  
  
Right now he’s too eager, so he tamps it down. Reminds himself exactly what it is he’s doing, like he sometimes has to. This is a silly thing to be doing, watching a cam…a streamer every night. Loki’s seen every crevice and curve the guy has, while Loki’s revealed almost nothing about himself. Just like everyone else who tunes in regularly. Loki isn’t better than any of the others who show up in droves.  
  
But ThunderGod talks to him, _addresses_ him. Often. Sometimes more than one of the dark purples who shower him in tokens to slap his ass or tweak his nipples (or in a few cases jiggle his balls, which always weirds Loki out if he were being honest). Loki doesn’t have any idea why. He just knows he likes when he makes ThunderGod smile, a set of full lips in frame, golden hair hanging in waves down his chest as he laughs at something Loki said.  
  
ThunderGod never tries to push him for tokens either, and that’s weird too.  
  
Still, Loki just doesn’t see the point in spamming or begging, money or no. Doesn’t get why ThunderGod puts up with it. He has enough support, if he banned a few of the more annoying ones Loki thinks it wouldn’t hurt his earnings too much. ThunderGod always handles every person who passes through his chat with grace and clarity and respect, even when they don’t give him the same, and it boggles Loki how he can be so…so forgiving? Understanding?  
  
Loki has popped into other shows before, early on in an effort to see why ThunderGod was more interesting than the others on the site. He’s seen mods ban people right away for the same shit. He can’t understand it, and he would ask ThunderGod about it if the message wouldn’t be seen by everyone else in chat.  
  
He still wonders why ThunderGod is so… _so_. So himself. Enough to make Loki keep an account at all. He never shows his face, for one. Often the mystery of it all drives Loki nuts, wanting to know. But then he’s self aware enough to understand that’s half the allure of the whole thing, isn’t it? To not know who it is you’re watching, night after night.  
  
It’s half past five now and ThunderGod is still missing in action. Loki refreshes the page a few times, thinking it’s a problem with his flash installation. Double checks the date, sees it’s still Friday. But no, nothing is wrong, the stream just hasn’t started. ThunderGod isn’t online. It’s very odd.  
  
Maybe something’s happened.  
  
Loki checks his Twitter next. Then his Instagram. Nothing.  
  
He switches back to Twitter and sees one new message pop up. He hits refresh and tries to fight the wash of disappointment before it really hits him that ThunderGod isn’t going to be on at all tonight. It doesn’t work.  
  
_ThunderGod: No show tonight, guys sorry!! Moving as we speak and it ran a little late! Plan to have extra long stream tomorrow so don’t hate me pls**_  
  
Then another pops in:  
  
_ThunderGod: Keep an eye out. I’ll have something extra special for my faves~_  
  
Loki’s eyes feel itchy. His heart pounds. Maybe he’s worse off than he thought if he’s so affected by something so trivial as ThunderGod not doing a show for one night—even though Loki can’t even remember the last time, if ever, ThunderGod has missed a show. He clicks off the page in disgust at himself and slides further down in his chair.  
  
He’s never even seen the guy’s _face_! He doesn’t get to feel sad. He wouldn’t know him apart from some guy next to him at the grocery store. Loki feels stupid and considers deleting his entire account. It can’t be healthy, right? It can’t.  
  
But…  
  
He stays there silently stewing for half an hour longer, judging himself, when he sees an alert that his friend Krackaboom is online. Loki sits up and sees Boom wants to run some levels together later that night if Loki’s up for it.  
  
Loki’s still feeling oddly dejected, so he closes his laptop without responding and decides to go join in on the swimming, red face be damned.  
  
—  
  
He’s lying drowsy in the grass, burning, when Helblindi splashes Loki with water not long after a honk sounds from the neighbor’s front yard. He can hear the moving truck drive away and then it’s blissful silence for the first time all day, interrupted only by his brother’s frantic splashing.  
  
Loki startles where he’s lying on his back in the sun as the cold shocks him and reaches out to throw the nearest bunch of grass at his sibling when he sees Helblindi jerking his head towards the fence.  
  
“What are you doing?” Loki demands, perplexed.  
  
Helblindi shushes him and then does it again, pointedly looking to the house next door.  
  
Loki tracks the movement to see their new neighbors heading up the stairs of their deck, carrying what looks to be the last of their things. Loki feels his face flush.  
  
Their new neighbors are older, a married couple. The man is missing an eye and he holds his wife’s hand. He gestures out at the yard but he’s waved off by someone who Loki assumes can only be their son. He has the same wild sunshine colored hair as the woman, after all. But their son—god how he hopes it’s their son who maybe still lives with them, please—is tall, and has long blond hair that hangs loose around a shining brow. He lifts one rippling arm to wipe the sweat from his face and whistles and Loki feels like he’s slipped into the center of the earth. Has to bite his lip to keep himself from going _oh my god_.  
  
Helblindi is smiling knowingly at him. Loki rolls until he can swing his legs into the water, and shoves himself onto his older brother’s shoulders. He gasps and giggles and bucks Loki off until they both go under.  
  
Loki splutters when he surfaces and splashes Helblindi when he comes up some feet away, laughing.  
  
“Thought you’d like to know is all,” he says, grinning. “You’re welcome.”  
  
“Shut it, he’ll hear you,” Loki insists, but can’t help feeling giddy about it.  
  
Their last neighbor was an angry old man, all of four feet and from Jersey. He liked to shout and had hair coming out of his ears. Loki couldn’t stand him, so this is a great improvement as far as he’s concerned.  
  
Helblindi swims off to bother Byleister where he sits at the other end of the pool with his legs in the water, oblivious to everything except what’s on his phone.  
  
When Loki looks up he locks eyes with the new neighbor, who’s just standing there on his new deck, smiling across at him. Loki can’t make out the color of his eyes, but the way his bicep leaps as he raises one arm to shield himself from the sun is distraction enough.  
  
Then his neighbor seems to catch himself staring and off he goes, turning back to the house.  
  
Loki takes a deep breath and sinks to the bottom of the pool.


	2. Moonlight

Helblindi wakes him up at three in the morning, shouting.  
  
Loki rubs his hands over his face and climbs out of bed. He trips in the thick tangle of his comforter and sheets, knocking two of his three pillows to the floor in the clumsy process. He sighs and gets on with it, not too worried. The neighbors are used to when this happens. But Loki thinks of the new people who moved in next door and he’d rather avoid another police incident.  
  
Knowing Byleister sleeps like the dead, Loki hurries to the backyard, unconcerned of the noise he’s making. Slides the glass door all the way open and immediately spots his brother at the far end of the pool, pacing and waving his arms around. He’s yelling intermittently about mountains, and snow. Loki rolls his eyes and goes to wake his brother up.  
  
Shaking him doesn’t do anything, and neither does pinching his upper arms. Helblindi wrenches himself away from Loki’s probing hands and nearly stumbles into the water. Loki hates when his brother gets like this. He wishes Byleister would bother enough to care sometimes, knows that he never will.  
  
Helblindi stumbles again and he’s too tall and too heavy for Loki to stop him from careening over the edge into the water if he manages to stumble another few inches to the side. Loki arcs his hand back and slaps his brother across the face with all the force he can muster. This late, the sound of it echoes.  
  
It does the trick. Helblindi comes to with a gasp and a, “Fuck, man,” and proceeds to grumble while rubbing his cheek.  
  
Loki sighs, trying to gather himself. Gather his shaking hands. Loki hugs his brother briefly and then stands there to watch him amble his way safely back inside.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Loki startles, whipping his head around. The hot neighbor, the guy from before. His hair is down—his long, sunshine hair, made cool in the moonlight—and he’s shirtless, staring down at Loki from up on his deck. He makes his way down and Loki hears some amount of shuffling around of what sounds like metal squeaking before his neighbor’s head and shoulders pop up just over the edge of the fence. Loki eyes him, uncertain.  
  
“You gonna call the cops?”  
  
Hot Neighbor frowns. “For sleepwalking? No.”  
  
That gets Loki moving. He’s in front of the fence before he knows it, close enough to lock eyes with the guy. Hot Neighbor is clearly concerned and it gives Loki pause.  
  
“He does it sometimes,” Loki says. “He can’t help it. Meds don’t work like they should most of the time, and too many of the sleep aid makes him sleep for two days straight.”  
  
“Can’t win for losing, right?” Hot Neighbor asks, ironic, and Loki smiles.  
  
He wipes his eyes, surprised when they come away wet. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. I’m Thor.” His voice is a rumble, setting warmth on a spread through his chest.  
  
“Loki.”  
  
“It’s just you and your brothers then? I saw you earlier, not to be weird or anything.”  
  
Loki shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”  
  
Thor hums. Suddenly shoulders and head are accompanied by arms crossed at the elbows, hanging over the fence.  
  
“You’ll have to tell me some time.”  
  
Loki doesn’t know what to make of that, so he ignores it entirely. He’s exhausted and wired and knows he must look absolutely manic, hair all over the place, no socks or shoes, covered in gooseflesh. He rubs his arms.  
  
“How do you like the new house?” Loki asks instead, honestly curious. It’s a decent neighborhood.  
  
Thor smiles, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “Oh it’s a dream. Couldn’t have asked for a better first place. My pop was telling me I should start a garden, but I don’t know. I’m not that good at that stuff, even though I’d like to be. Maybe one of these days.”  
  
So he lives alone, Loki realizes. It’s not an unpleasant realization.  
  
“I’m pretty good at vegetables,” Loki says. He doesn’t know why the words suddenly seem to pop out of him. “If you want I can show you how to make planters. For tomatoes and stuff.”  
  
Thor bites his lip and Loki feels his knees go wobbly.  
  
“You’d do that for some random guy?”  
  
Loki digs his toes into the grass. “Yeah. I’ll show you tomorrow. Or later today I guess. If you want.”  
  
His heart is going to fly out of his chest. Maybe break some ribs on the way too. Thor could probably catch them before they get too far, standing where he is. With biceps like his he could probably lob them right back too.  
  
Thor beams at him, and even in the moonlight his teeth gleam in the dark. Loki wonders if his skin is warm, standing around in the middle of the night shirtless.  
  
“Later today then!” Thor repeats, sounding altogether too happy at the prospect. Maybe he gets lonely, Loki wonders. “I’ve got a thing around five, so maybe early afternoon?”  
  
Loki also has a thing around five, so he says, “Perfect.”  
  
Thor extends his hand and Loki, blinking, takes it. They shake on it.  
  
“See you then, Loki,” Thor crows, and hops off whatever he was standing on.  
  
—  
  
In the morning, he wakes feeling like he didn’t sleep at all. Helblindi brings him a poor excuse for breakfast; toast and sausage that’s raw in the middle. Loki smiles because Helblindi is his brother and he loves him, and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.  
  
“I didn’t cause too much trouble again, did I?”  
  
“No more than usual,” Loki says. “No big deal.”  
  
Helblindi nods and heads off, surely to bother Byleister before they both have to head to work.  
  
Loki throws the food out.  
  
—  
  
At a certain angle from his desk he can see Thor’s backyard. Thor didn’t explicitly state a time to head over, and Loki can’t see him outside just yet. He logs into his game manager and sets his mic to low. Pushes his headset on and sees Boom’s username flash green in the corner.  
  
It takes less than a minute before an invite pops up and Loki clicks on it, smiling as he hears his friend’s voice filtered through the usual tinny static. Boom has always been paranoid, says it has to do with his work. Doesn’t want people recognizing him. Loki’s never pushed, but he wants to. All he knows is Boom uses a funny voice modder through his audio when he feels like talking (which is often.)  
  
“Hey,” Loki chimes. “How long are you on for?”  
  
Boom’s hum echoes through the mic. “About an hour maybe. I’m meeting someone for a date.”  
  
Loki feels his stomach flip, unpleasant for some ridiculous reason. “A date? Who with?”  
  
Boom breathes out so harsh it blows the audio out for a second. “Well maybe not a date date, but I guess I’m hanging out with somebody. He’s really handsome. I’m worried he won’t like me.”  
  
“Ah,” Loki hums back, trying to put on the same casual tone. “He will.” Who wouldn’t like Boom? “I’m happy for you.” Loki’s not.  
  
Remembering he’s meeting someone soon himself, Loki swallows down the knot quickly forming in his throat. He wonders if Thor thinks he’s handsome. If Thor considers Loki’s random gardening tutorial offer a date. His palms grow clammy just thinking about it.  
  
The silence hangs for so long Loki considers repeating himself. But then Boom finally answers with a stiff, “Thanks.”  
  
And that’s that.  
  
—  
  
There’s something off between them for the whole game. After forty-five minutes inch by, Loki is surprised when Boom abruptly cuts their game short. He shoots off a quick, “Sorry man, I gotta go get ready,” but Loki can tell something isn’t right about it. Can’t tell if it’s nerves about Boom’s date-that’s-maybe-not-a-date-but-probably-very-likely-is or something else. Loki can’t bring himself to ask his friend to clarify.  
  
Loki decides to set it aside for now. They’ll probably be online later tonight anyway, and besides Loki should shower and head over to Thor’s soon. He wants to make a good first—well, second—impression, if for nothing more than a daylight thank you for not calling the police on his brother.  
  
Before long he’s in front of Thor’s door. Has to wipe his palms on his shorts. He’s wearing a tank top, and he worries for the first time Thor might think he’s too skinny; his arms too thin, his ribs too visible, might not be enough hair on his chest. Stupid things that he knows are stupid but right now fill his mind in a twirl not dissimilar to a flushing toilet. He clamps his arms down at his sides, suddenly self conscious. Why is he like this?  
  
Loki thinks he should knock but then remembers he already did. He balls his hands into fists and tries to relax his face.  
  
The door opens and Loki sucks in his upper lip before forcing himself to relax, again, then smile out a hello that ends up sounding far too breathy for his comfort.  
  
Thor grins at him. He’s taller up close, just by a little. Loki’s almost never shorter than anyone besides his brothers, and for some reason it sends him into a dizzy spell. He lifts a hand to the door frame to steady himself, then remembers too late his silent vow to keep his skinny arms pressed flat to his skinny sides.  
  
Hands the size of frying pans—okay maybe not exactly so, but close enough to Loki’s estimation—grip his shoulders, hold him up. Loki feels like a feather that Thor’s hands are keeping firmly rooted to the earth’s surface.  
  
“Hey, is the heat getting to you?” Thor asks him, sincere and meaningful, honest, and—goddammit why did his eyes have to be so blue? Surely that wasn’t allowed in genomes, right? “Get in here, I made some lemonade for us.”  
  
Loki’s pulled inside to the thought of “for us”, like Thor took the time to think of what drink Loki would like to have while they’re out in the dirt under the beat of the sun.  
  
It’s a pristine home, but not unlived in. Perfect actually.  
  
“Glad you’re not a serial killer.”  
  
“Huh?” Thor asks, looking amused. Loki takes in the living room one more time before heading into the kitchen after him.  
  
“Clean but not covered in plastic. It’s nice.”  
  
Thor laughs. “Oh yeah. I want to keep it nice, first time on my own and all. Mom doesn’t think it’ll last.”  
  
“You should have seen our place when I first moved in with my older brothers. My college dorm had been cleaner.”  
  
He laughs again and it rumbles much like his voice. Loki watches to see if the windows shake in their frames.  
  
“What’d you go to college for?”  
  
“Creative writing.” He never really talks about it with anyone. Boom doesn’t even know.  
  
He expects Thor to make the usual disgusted or confused face but he only says, “That’s cool! You’ll have to show me a story of yours.”  
  
Loki nods dumbly, feeling fluttery. “How about you?”  
  
“Molecular nanotechnology.”  
  
Loki blanches, leaning back against the counter beside him. Watches the way Thor’s muscles bunch under the tee-shirt he wears as he pours two glasses.  
  
“What?”  
  
Thor smiles shyly. “It’s the use of mechanosynthesis to alter the states of molecular structures at the atomic level.”  
  
“I don’t understand the words you’re saying, besides you must be old.”  
  
Thor’s laugh then is booming. It makes his ears ring.  
  
Thor shakes his head, sipping from his glass. “I make small things change big things. And I’m twenty-seven, that’s hardly old.”  
  
“I’m only twenty-two. Speak for yourself, old man.”  
  
Thor flips him off, smiling over the rim of his glass. Loki finally raises his own to drink from and it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He’s not even exaggerating.


	3. Heat

Thor likes to dig with his hands. Likes to press his palms flat to the soil, get his whole arm into it. Uses his elbows to push and push and push, crooking his fingers into the soft dirt to create tiny divots in neat, if not slightly crooked rows all the way down planters Loki spent the better part of two hours helping him hammer together. Leftover wood brought by his dad, Thor had told him. Useful. Loki had teased him about being able to use a hammer and if he’d manage to figure out nails since it was his first time out on his own and all. Thor laughed under his breath and flicked his arm.  
  
Something about the way Thor’s digging his fingers anew into each man-made little hole is doing things to him. Something about it seems familiar too, kind of like deja-vu. Maybe it’s the dirt under his clean-cut nails, the cuticles well cared for and pushed back. Maybe it’s the way his knuckles, thick and a little red, bend again and again to delve into the earth. Maybe it’s the scissoring motion of his fingers afterward. Or the way the individual grains of soil part to tumble over one another as the holes spread wider and wider and wider—  
  
“Hey, wait,” Loki voices, “Those are gonna be too big. We’re just planting seeds you know, not graves.”  
  
When Loki meets Thor’s eyes he’s mildly surprised to see Thor already watching him. Was he watching him the whole time? His neck heats and he feels the start of a sweat entirely apart from the blistering summer heat bearing down on his skin.  
  
Thor smirks and Loki swallows.  
  
“Graves, huh? For our resident blushing beauty here—”  
  
“Don’t chastise me,” Loki snarks to him. He is blushing, he knows he is and he hates it. Hates that Thor is mocking him for it. He vows to himself right then and there he’ll never have anything to do with his hot-as-hell-probably-a-scientific-genius-neighbor-who-has-no-right-to-smell-so-good-up-this-close—  
  
“Loki? Loki, I was only kidding, you just look overheated. Want me to go get you some more lemonade? A water? Or we could wait and I could take you to the ER for heat stroke.”  
  
Loki frowns at the dirt. He’s funny. Why does he have to be funny? Loki decides to shove Thor’s hands away and do it his damn self. He invited himself over, and he’s spent hours building planters, now he’s going to plant the seeds for him too.  
  
“Can’t you do anything!” he snaps, to Thor’s more than aggravating laughter beside him.  
  
Then there’s a hand on his elbow and Loki has to be tugged twice before he falls still.  
  
“What’s wrong, kid?”  
  
Loki bristles tiredly at that.  
  
“Don’t start that.”  
  
Thor’s eyes gleam in the sunlight. “What’s wrong, Loki?”  
  
Loki flops back in the grass. “I don’t like when people flirt with me and aren’t serious about it. Sends mixed signals.” Why is he being so honest? Stop being honest, he tells himself. “Makes me confused and I hate it.”  
  
The arm travels from his elbow to his shoulder to squeeze. Then a second squeeze follows the first and Loki turns just in time to see Thor leaning forward. He panics, frozen. Thinks Thor is going to kiss him.  
  
But Thor doesn’t. He’s just readjusting from being on his knees to actually sitting on his ass like a normal human being. And besides don’t almost-thirty-year-old’s have bad knees anyway? Surely Thor’s hurt, kneeling like he was—  
  
“Hey. Slow down. I can see the gears turning.”  
  
Loki shrugs his shoulders. Thor’s hand hasn’t left him.  
  
“Now,” Thor mutters. He uses his other hand to wipe sweat from his brow. “Who said I wasn’t serious?”  
  
Loki’s mind goes into overdrive. He turns dizzy, feels too hot. If he had a fan he’d probably be whirring right about now, sounding ready to combust at any moment. He might have to cash in the trip to the ER after all, feeling like he does.  
  
Thor just squeezes his shoulder once more and it only serves to ground him. Maybe he’s grateful for that.  
  
Thor must realize he’s not going to answer. The hand drops away, pats Loki’s chest once before falling back into his own lap.  
  
“How about I grab us the whole pitcher and some glasses and we can sit on the porch. You can tell me about college and your brothers?”  
  
He sounds hopeful. Looks it too, when Loki meets his hopeful eyes with their matching eyebrows tilted up in a hopeful way. Loki feels more soured by the minute.  
  
But he says, “Yeah, sure,” anyway. Doesn’t get why Thor is so eager to push himself to his feet to jog to the kitchen.  
  
Loki groggily rises to follow him.  
  
—  
  
Thor’s watch beeps at exactly thirty-seven minutes before five o’clock, and Loki is glad for it because he nearly forgot he had something to do too. He wants to watch the stream. After all, ThunderGod had said there would be a surprise today and Loki knows that’s rare.  
  
Loki likes Thor. He does. But Thor is confusing and it gives him a headache and makes his heart race. While he appreciates the way Thor looks at him, how open he is with maybe-is-he-sort-of-flirting-guess-he-is—with all that, that stuff he’s sending Loki’s way. But also how he still keeps talking casually with him about everything and nothing—it feels weird and insignificant in a strange way. He likes Thor, but he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable around him, and to shut the possibility down of Thor liking him altogether is much easier and something he’s already decided to do long before Thor taps the face of his watch with a sad smile.  
  
“Sorry I have to cut it short,” Thor says. It’s been hours. Not short at all. “I work from home right now so I try not to skip my set hours. Already had to cancel for the move yesterday, you know?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Loki nods. He doesn’t consider asking the question he wants to ask; what do you do for work? Because that would force them to spend more time together. Loki can’t stomach anymore enjoyment for one afternoon, not with knowing he can’t do this again, for his own sanity. “I have something to do anyway, I should really get going.”  
  
Thor smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  
  
Thor hugs him before he leaves and Loki returns it briefly, if only to say a silent farewell to those massive arms and perfect pectorals he can most definitely not feel, not at all, beneath Thor’s ridiculously loose tank top. Thor waves goodbye from his front step until Loki is at his own door, and it all feels entirely too Brady Bunch for his liking.  
  
Loki won’t come over here anymore. If Thor tries to talk to him from his yard, he’ll just ignore him.  
  
—  
  
Loki grabs an icy water bottle from his fridge. Wedges it beneath his chin and sinks down in his chair. Has to get up again and lock his door and then resettle before he opens the familiar tab. He sighs, feeling comfortable for the first time all day.  
  
He picks at his nails while he waits for the stream to start. The banner is still the same as last time. The chat is still filled with members all shades of purple just waiting to spend money for a chance at some time with ThunderGod.  
  
Loki wonders what the surprise will be. Maybe lingerie. Maybe a new toy. Maybe a partner…though the idea makes him nauseas for some stupid reason. ThunderGod’s never been a partner kind of streamer, which is one reason Loki likes him. He feels ashamed of himself to admit it, but the one on one, no matter how imagined that boundary is, feels more intimate in a way than watching a camshow with a couple or more. They’re always usually too focused on either the stream or themselves, rendering an either inattentive or too voyeuristic stream for Loki’s tastes. ThunderGod hits that balance and Loki surmises that’s really why he can only watch his stream’s and no one else’s for longer than five minutes without getting bored or grossed out.  
  
God, he hopes the stream doesn’t involve ball jiggling though. He’s almost never missed a stream, but sometimes the requests are odd and he has to tab out for a while. Like the time when one person insisted on the eggs. He shudders to think of it even now.  
  
The screen blinks and Loki holds his breath. Then it blinks again, a tiny buffering circle starts up and then—then ThunderGod is online and it’s just the spread of his golden thighs covered in equally golden, fine hair. His quads ripple as he shifts his laptop where he sits, the camera briefly catching a glimpse of a bearded chin before refocusing on everything from the neck down to his knees.  
  
Loki has to lick his lips. Feels disgusting for some odd reason. Usually he pushes those feelings aside until the streams are over. He chalks it up to Thor knocking him off center today. He’ll double down on his efforts to ignore his new neighbor.  
  
And besides, ThunderGod is beautiful and hot and attentive and reliable—as far as scheduling goes—and Loki doesn’t have to go through the added pressure of having the obligation to touch him, so really, he thinks, he’s got the ideal situation right here anyway. It doesn’t make him lonely or sad or anything like that. It doesn’t.  
  
ThunderGod’s voice is a low treat in his headphones. It’s been one day but he’s missed it. Missed it a lot.  
  
“Hey all,” ThunderGod says, voice rough. He runs a hand over his chest, just barely teasing around his pink nipples. Scratches a hand through the light hair traveling down his navel. “Missed you guys. Where are my faves?”  
  
Loki watches a flood of greetings, innuendos, flirtations, pathetic attempts at dirty talk and seduction. A few, “how was your day’s” and countless “what’s the surprise’s.”  
  
ThunderGod chuckles. ThunderGod never really laughs laughs, not like many do. It’s quiet. A lot about ThunderGod is quiet. Not that he can’t be boisterous or loud or that Loki’s never heard him laugh loudly but—it’s few and far between, and Loki often wonders what it would sound like. The few instances are so few and far between the recollection of them slip from his memory like water over stone.  
  
Loki types a quick, “Missed you yesterday,” and sends it in chat.  
  
There are three people who tell him to fuck off, grey, but ThunderGod shifts where he sits when he reads it aloud. He dips into frame for a flash of a moment to smile and thank him. He even says, “Missed you too, man.”  
  
Loki relaxes for the first time in forty-eight hours.  
  
He’s hard not fifteen minutes in. Thirty minutes it’s starting to grow annoying, all heat and just this side of painful where he lightly squeezes himself to stave off the feeling of how good it really does feel—how it could feel if he allowed himself to get off. ThunderGod’s tweaking his nipples now, running his index through lube someone paid him to pour over his chest minutes before. It dries quick but he glistens long enough that Loki knows he’ll look forward to the next time someone pays him to do it again.  
  
Then, after an hour—it happens. ThunderGod excuses himself for a quick bathroom break and then he’s back. His golden hair is loose and dangles over his shoulders as he tucks a leg underneath himself. His cock rests heavy against his leg, dry and flushed a pleasant pink. The foreskin shifts when he moves to type and Loki has a moment where he imagines ThunderGod’s cock in his mouth. He knows it’d feel good, taste good. All heat and salt and heavy on his tongue, down his throat. He’d probably choke too—  
  
“Click that link and you’ll enter a raffle to win some one on one time with me, and I’ll announce the winner soon,” ThunderGod is explaining. Loki has to scramble to scroll up, locating the link after another minute. Everyone is in a frenzy trying to convince ThunderGod to let them win no matter the results. Loki just stares at the link, frozen.  
  
Loki sits up in his seat. Sets the water bottle down.  
  
Someone asks what one on one means.  
  
“Private stream. Thirty minutes. Free of charge.”  
  
What if we pay for private streams, someone else asks.  
  
ThunderGod shrugs. Curls a strand of hair around his knuckle.  
  
“This raffle is special.”  
  
Loki can’t help it. He types, “How?”  
  
ThunderGod answers him immediately. “There’s a second surprise only the winner will get to find out.”  
  
Loki feels off balance. Giddy for a reason he can’t name. He types, “What if we don’t win? What if we miss our chance?”  
  
ThunderGod answers him again, right away, ignores the flurry of every dark purple tipping him tokens right now. Constant dings sound and it makes Loki’s ears ring.  
  
“This raffle will be my last private stream for a while. So it’s a really special one, let me just say that.”  
  
Loki feels sick to his stomach. He clicks open the link. He enters the raffle. It’s just a click and subscribe. He enters an email he uses just for the streaming site anyway, it’s not like it’s his professional email or anything. No harm no foul.  
  
“I entered,” Loki types.  
  
ThunderGod allows his smile to enter frame and Loki smiles back, feels butterflies come to life. He’s a fool. He has the same feeling of deja-vu. ThunderGod scratches at his chin and Loki wonders why his nails are slightly dirty today. Discolored. Maybe he’d been painting. Loki’s nails got like that when he scratched at paint that dried too quick. He wonders, not for the first time, what ThunderGod’s life is like outside of the stream. He wonders if he’s a real person, with real issues; like bills, and groceries that go bad in the fridge, if he paints or plays games or has a dog or a cat, if maybe he was a snake person instead. Maybe he’s a snake person.  
  
ThunderGod’s stream dings so much, so quickly, his next two goals are met in five minutes. He guffaws, playing up the joy of it, thanking everyone for their hospitality. Promises them to make the rest of the stream a quality one. He streams for two extra hours that night. Comes three times. But the third time his semen just trickles out, slow and sluggish and Loki knows he must be tired. He wonders if he gets enough sleep. Wonders if he has a day job. Wonder what his name is.  
  
Loki wishes him a good night once ThunderGod announces the stream is ending. He feels happy, like he usually does.  
  
Loki is smiling for the rest of the night. He smiles when he takes a shower right after, coming untouched from the water alone—happens sometimes, but still a shock when it does happen. He smiles when he grabs some food from the kitchen. Smiles even when Byleister ruffles his hair as they pass each other. Smiles when he climbs under the covers. Smiles when he grabs his phone to set his alarm.  
  
Smiles when he checks his email.  
  
Smiles when he sees the confirmation for the raffle. Smiles even though he knows he doesn’t have a chance.  
  
Smiles when another new email comes in. Smiles when he clicks it open without looking at the title.  
  
Panics when he realizes it’s a followup for the raffle. It’s ThunderGod’s email—not the raffle’s. It’s a message directly from him to Loki and Loki fucking panics.  
  
He won the raffle.


	4. Chill

Loki doesn’t get to sleep until well past three in the morning. He is not panicking, he’s decided. He is not. Not at all. Nothing to panic over. He’s just a routine visitor to a streamer on a streaming service that just happens to specialize in the marketing of one’s body with an emphasis on those bodies doing certain…things. It’s not his fault he made an account. Sif had bullied him into it in the first place. Okay, maybe not bullied. But suggestively suggested he make an account to follow one golden-skinned, golden-haired, rumbly-voiced ThunderGod who just so happens to be nice enough that Loki wanted to stick around. For a year. Yeah.  
  
He’s never paid ThunderGod a goddamn cent.  
  
He doesn’t own ThunderGod. ThunderGod doesn’t owe him anything.  
  
Least of all a private show. Loki doesn’t even know what goes on in private shows. If he wanted to know, he’d have loaded his account with money months ago and jumped at the chance first thing.  
  
And yeah, okay, alright, maybe he has considered doing exactly that. A number of times, in fact. But he hasn’t actually done it, and that’s the difference. The point, even. He’s not someone who pays for sex—or whatever it is that streamers are considered to be putting on offer. Sex workers? Body activists? Bored individual? He doesn’t even know, doesn’t really get it. He’s always felt fine lumping them in with any other kind of streamer or video maker, like a vlogger, even. It’s just what some people did.  
  
But jesus, he never even allows himself to come while watching a show. Likes to hold out and delve into his feelings of shame and guilt alone in his shower afterwards like a normal person. He’s not like the others who just throw change into the void and expect a twerk or a nipple pinch in return. And he sure as hell isn’t one to demand ThunderGod ever touch himself. Never actively participates in the absolute deluge of overzealous comments when ThunderGod actually wraps his hand around his own cock to spill all over his own chest, sometimes the camera, sometimes his mouth—  
  
Nope. Loki isn’t like that. He’s got some base sense of honor or moral code or whatever, what little there is, and he’s proud of it, kind of, and the point of the matter is—he’s panicking, he’s fucking panicking, freaking out, what is he gonna do—  
  
“Calm the hell down,” he hisses to himself. “Calm down, calm down, calm the fuck down.”  
  
Loki sits up. He makes a plan of action.  
  
First he’ll take a shower. Then he’ll eat some food, maybe some oatmeal. Then he’ll hop online and game with Boom for a bit. He needs a break, right? He’ll do that. Then he’ll write something. That’ll be easy enough. Then he’ll hang out with Helblindi and Byleister for the rest of the afternoon and evening and maybe—maybe he’ll skip the stream tomorrow. Maybe he’ll decide that today, right now even. Yeah, he’ll skip it. He’ll ignore his next door neighbor too while he’s at it.  
  
Loki renews his vow to do so once he’s gotten adequate food in his stomach and steps onto his back porch, wondering if he might take a swim at some point too when he feels eyes on him. He turns and catches Thor’s eye, who waves from his place on his own deck. Thor’s got a robe on, and his legs are kicked up on the fencing. Loki can see the underside of a toned thigh, the other hidden where it’s drawn up and Loki—Loki crumbles like a damn cookie.  
  
He glares and heads back inside.  
  
He glares when he goes to the front of his house.  
  
He glares all the way to Thor’s front door. Glares when he knocks it opens minutes later to an eager looking Thor. Thor, who’s holding two coffees, like he expected Loki.  
  
Loki takes the cup and shuffles inside.  
  
—  
  
“What’s eating you, kid?”  
  
“Thor.”  
  
Thor nods in apology. “Loki. What’s wrong, what’s going on?”  
  
Loki paces in Thor’s well lit living room. He paces until his knees twinge, then he just stops, facing the stairwell.  
  
“You have an upstairs.”  
  
Thor blinks and follows his gaze up, slow. “Yeah?” Loki doesn’t say anything more, thinking. “If you’re suggesting I invite you up, I’m afraid you’ll have to indulge me a little first.”  
  
Loki snaps out of his daze momentarily, confused. “Huh?”  
  
“You’ll have to let me take you out to dinner first.”  
  
Loki nods and nods again and Thor is doing that thing where he’s started nodding too and they look ridiculous and Loki hates it—  
  
“Hey,” Thor says, striding toward him. “Hey, it’s just a joke. Well, not a total joke, I do want to take you out for food sometime, but only if you want to. But I’m just trying to cheer you up. Lighten the mood, yeah?” He laughs and it’s a nervous sound. Loki wonders why he’s nervous. Then Thor’s words catch up to him.  
  
“Oh. Food?”  
  
“Yeah,” Thor breathes out, sounding relieved somewhat. His hands grip at Loki’s shoulders. They slide up towards his neck dangerously. Loki doesn’t want to know what Thor’s rough, thick-knuckled fingers feel like on the sensitive skin of his throat. He might melt. “Something fancy. Or not! Doesn’t have to be fancy if you don’t want that. We could grab a bagel even. I could cook!”  
  
“Cook.”  
  
Thor looks manic for an instant. Loki smiles. He can’t help it.  
  
He’s breaking every single rule he’s managed to make for himself over the last twenty-four hours but he doesn’t even care. Thor is nice and has asked him out to dinner.  
  
But he came here for a reason.  
  
He pulls away from Thor’s hands. They hover between them and Loki says, “You should scrub your nails. The dirt from yesterday is still there, gross.”  
  
Thor blinks and huffs at his own fingers. “I’ve scrubbed them a ton. I might just go get a manicure at this point. Maybe I did dig a little too deep yesterday.”  
  
Loki sniffs at him, feigning being perturbed. Thor sees right through him.  
  
“Dinner sounds nice,” Loki says, to Thor’s utter joy. His eyes light up like little Christmas lights, bright and blue and annoying. “But I didn’t come here for that. I have an, uh…an event. I didn’t know I’d be going to an event, but it’s soon and I don’t really, ah, know what to do about it. If I should go.”  
  
An event. Yes, exactly.  
  
“Want me to go with you?”  
  
Loki waves his hands. “No, it’s not that kind of event. No, way. Oh my god.”  
  
Thor raises a questioning eyebrow.  
  
“I kind of won something,” he says. Thor nods, serious. “I just don’t know why or how or if I should even accept what I won. It’s kind of…not really my thing.”  
  
Thor nods again, slowly.  
  
“Well, it is my thing! But I’m not supposed to have won, you know? The person who set this…this competition up. I don’t even know him! But he set it up and emailed me to let me know I won and, and I just have no fucking clue what to do!”  
  
Thor blinks and blinks again. He hums, sounding a little breathless. He steps back until he’s leaning back against his couch and crosses his arms. Loki feels like Thor is looking straight through his head, he’s staring so intensely at him.  
  
“What did you win? A competition for what?”  
  
Loki blanches. “Uh. It’s kind of like a raffle?”  
  
Thor’s expression doesn’t waver. Loki has no idea how to explain it so that Thor can understand. It’s not a situation you explain in polite company. It’s like admitting you use drugs or something, right? No one talks about their porn addictions like casual weekend night banter to weekend night company. Especially when said company has just asked him out on a dinner date.  
  
“It’s like a date? But it’s not a date date. Not like dinner, I guess. Just a special one time only kind of thing and I don’t deserve it,” he says all in a rush. Because it’s true. And it’s wrong to want something he doesn’t deserve.  
  
Thor’s eyes go a little wide. He laughs once, abrupt, runs a hand over his chin. Loki is hit with another wave of deja-vu, but he swallows it down. Now is not the time!  
  
Now is the time for panicking!  
  
“How special is it?” Thor asks, calm.  
  
“It’s a one time event. From the way he was talking about it it sounded like he wasn’t going to do another again, not for a long time. But it’s not like he even knows me from any of his other…followers.” Followers, that’s both accurate and socially acceptable to say. “It’s not like I matter more than anyone else after following him for so long. So I really don’t know why he picked me of all people.”  
  
Thor smiles and it creeps Loki out if he were being honest. If Thor knew what he was actually talking about, he wouldn’t be smiling. He’d probably be throwing Loki out of his house.  
  
But Thor scratches at his scruff and nods, smile growing fond. Loki feels too open the longer Thor stares at him.  
  
“I bet he chose you for some reason or other,” Thor tells him, matter of fact. “He probably thinks you’re important.”  
  
“No more important than any of the other—” he swallows. “Other people who follow him. People got angry that I won. It’s not like I’ve ever given him incentive to notice or reward me.”  
  
“I bet he noticed you from whenever you started following. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to bullshit about what he likes.”  
  
“You don’t know me very well then.”  
  
Thor shrugs. “Call it a hunch. But I don’t know, social media is a strange beast. It’s a double-edged sword. You get to know people regardless if you want to or not. You start recognizing the real people from the ones who are only in it for the short term until they get what they want.”  
  
Loki’s throat goes dry. “Guess that’s right.”  
  
Thor beams at him, his previous severity vanishing. “See? Being agreeable works wonders.”  
  
“Shut up,” Loki gripes, waving a hand at him.  
  
Thor straightens and approaches Loki until he’s right in front of him. His hands alight on Loki’s shoulders again and the touch is warm and grounding, and exactly what he needs.  
  
“Now I’m really curious,” Thor murmurs down to him. “You’ve got a date planned before I had a chance to ask you out. I don’t think that’s fair.”  
  
Something has shifted between them. Something’s changed. Anticipation thrums in Loki’s belly and he’s nervous, his palms are clammy. Thor is looking at him in a way that makes him want to run out the front door and never leave Thor’s arms all at the same time. He met this guy yesterday. What is he doing?  
  
“What do you propose, then?” Loki hears himself ask instead.  
  
Thor smiles down at him and it’s the warmest smile he’s ever had aimed at him. He glances down at Thor’s mouth, wonders what it will feel like when Thor kisses him—finally—because that’s exactly what Thor is about to do—  
  
Then those lips drift out of his vision and Loki feels them press to his cheek instead. Thor draws him forward into a hug and Loki feels had, in the worst way. Even despite the terrible butterflies that are filling him up from his head to his toes the longer Thor holds him. Loki indulges for the briefest moment, bringing his own arms up to embrace Thor in return. The muscles of shoulders shift under the robe he wears.  
  
“Not fair,” Loki mumbles, muffled by Thor’s shoulder. He turns his face into Thor’s neck and it’s a mistake, it’s far worse being able to smell him, jesus—  
  
“You should accept the raffle you won,” Thor says. Loki hates he can’t see his face. “Then we can plan for dinner.”  
  
Thor pulls back and Loki meets his eyes, hesitant. “You’re not pissed?”  
  
“Why would I be,” Thor laughs. “I get a whole dinner with you, don’t I? Plus, neighbors? How cool is that?”  
  
Loki shakes his head, feeling giddy in spite of himself. “You’re entirely too good natured for a smart guy.”  
  
Thor laughs and laughs.  
  
—  
  
Loki sits down the next night feeling strangely neutral about the whole thing. He has Skype open, and ThunderGod’s friend request waiting to be accepted. He’d sent it earlier that day, once Loki had confirmed his win. The reply had been very quick.  
  
Now, he clicks accept and waits. It’s ten to five, and Loki had made sure everything was ready beforehand. He’s earlier than usual. Early, because ThunderGod’s normal stream was canceled for this. To make the win feel more special than any other stream night, or those blocks of minutes where viewers could request a one on one.  
  
Thor had told him to go ahead and do it and he will, because maybe he doesn’t deserve it, but it’s not like he has to live with the guy or anything. ThunderGod is going to be on his screen and his alone for thirty minutes, and Loki will try and muster his usual brand of casual interest and then probably take an extra long shower after and pass out. Like any other stream night.  
  
There’s a blank screen as Loki waits. He’s calm. He’s neutral. He doesn’t even care so much. This is fun! Fun and normal—and he blinks and there’s a buffering circle and he has to wipe his sweating palms on his thighs to dry them. He takes a swig of water to prepare.  
  
Then it’s a shot of familiar thighs and arms, hands on a keyboard. He’s on the laptop judging from the angle. And the way ThunderGod seems to be sitting cross-legged on cream colored carpet. He’s not naked, though, which makes Loki question everything. A small part of him wanted this special stream to be over quickly, and if it’s meant to be a tease or a strip show than that means ThunderGod plans to milk the whole thirty minutes.  
  
Not bad under other circumstances, but Loki feels his heart rate spike.  
  
**Hey, thanks for entering the raffle!**  
  
Loki blinks and wonders why ThunderGod is muted.  
  
Loki types out, “Hello, thank you for picking me.”  
  
**Don’ have to be so formal about it. You’re wondering why I picked you?**  
  
Loki bites his lip. “Yes.”  
  
More typing and Loki wonders why ThunderGod isn’t just turning on his mic. He sends a quick, “You can unmute if you want. I have headphones.”  
  
He looks like he’s laughing, then more typing, before:  
  
**I like when you pop up in chat. You’ve never been demanding like so many others.**  
  
Loki knows that. “I don’t pay you anything though.”  
  
**That’s not the point all the time.**  
  
“Then what is?”  
  
**Giving people some time to relax when they need it. Some entertainment. Peep show. Whatever.**  
  
“Whatever, being greys who won’t shell out a dime for you. I feel like I waste your time.”  
  
ThunderGod’s reply comes faster this time.  
  
**Whenever I see your handle pop in it makes me happy, man. I look forward to what you have to say. I can’t say that about most others. Maybe one I actually talk to on a regular basis.**  
  
Loki doesn’t know how to describe the feeling stirring just north of his stomach. He rubs at it.  
  
“Your streams are the only ones I can watch. I don’t watch anyone else.”  
  
**Oh?**  
  
“Yeah. It’s a little confession, there you go. You’re the one giving time to a grey, so no judging.”  
  
More laughter.  
  
**No judging here. It’s sweet.**  
  
“You never answered me. You can unmute it.”  
  
**Sometimes I don’t feel like talking.**  
  
“Or pretending to moan?” Loki kicks himself. He shouldn’t be teasing. They aren’t on good terms. They aren’t on any terms. They don’t know each other.  
  
**Ha!** ThunderGod types and Loki huffs. **Pretty much, kid.**  
  
Hm.  
  
“That’s the second time someone’s called me that today.”  
  
**Term of endearment.** It comes fast.  
  
Loki feels antsy for a reason he can’t pinpoint. He suddenly wants this to go quick again.  
  
“So what do we do in this special one on one stream? You said you might be taking a break?”  
  
ThunderGod shifts, lifting his laptop onto his lap. He’s in a loose shirt and a pair of black briefs, so Loki gets a screen full of wrinkled fabric and typing fingers.  
  
**It’ll be my last stream, actually.**  
  
Loki swallows thickly. What.  
  
“What?”  
  
**I never planned to do this forever. It’s time. I wanted to do a proper send off, but that’s for a short stream tomorrow. I thought doing a raffle stream would be fun too.**  
  
“Why not just do it all at once?” Loki asks him because he’s too nervous and suddenly entirely too crestfallen to beat around the bush or pretend he isn’t kind of maybe totally freaking out about the fact he won ThunderGod’s last ever private stream.  
  
**I wanted it to be special. An extra stream for**  
  
ThunderGod stops typing for a long moment and Loki panics when he sees it’s been fifteen minutes.  
  
“For what?”  
  
**I was hoping you’d enter. I wanted to pick you. Things worked out.**  
  
Loki can’t believe what he’s reading.  
  
**But anyway, since it’s a special stream you get to request something! And you better make it good because I’ve been dying to know. You never ask me to do anything, so it can be as wild as you like!**  
  
Loki fights to breathe regularly. He has an idea and he struggles with typing it out. He doesn’t want to type it out. Something is telling him he shouldn’t.  
  
**Consider it a gift for my last ever stream for you, kid.**  
  
Loki’s done for.  
  
“I want to see your face.”  
  
Silence. Hands still where they hover over the keyboard.  
  
More silence.  
  
“Sorry. I can think of something else.”  
  
Then the screen is shaking. The laptop is being moved. Distantly, Loki registers the beep of the mic being unmuted, and he can hear the shuffling now too. Can hear ThunderGod’s breathing.  
  
Can see the ends of his blond hair as the frame is shifted up—  
  
And the bearded chin—  
  
And a nose that doesn’t have any business looking so lovely—  
  
Following by full cheeks and thick lashes and—and suddenly Loki feels sick to his stomach.  
  
“Hey, kid,” ThunderGod says and it’s not really ThunderGod at all, is it? It’s not. It hasn’t been for a whole year.  
  
It’s…It’s—  
  
“Hey…Thor,” Loki breathes out, lightheaded. He feels cold.  
  
The world spins and goes black.


	5. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for enjoying the story! I didn't expect it to get the response it has! The next story I'm finishing is He's my Associate.

Loki wakes up to the sensation the earth is falling. Or he is. Maybe not, now that’s he blinking open bleary eyes to see—see Thor there. Thor is beside him. In his bedroom. On his floor. His hands cradle Loki’s face and it’s warm and comforting and strong and oh, he knows now what it feels like for Thor’s thick-knuckled hands to trail down from his cheek to his neck.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
He pushes Thor away. Or he thinks he does. But then his fingers flex and Loki realizes he’s gone and twisted a fist at Thor’s side. He’s in the same shirt he’d been wearing on stream, only now he’s wearing pants too. Jeans, actually. And that’s not fair anymore because Loki knows what great legs Thor has. ThunderGod. Thor. Okay.  
  
“What do I call you? ThunderThor? ThorGod?” Loki mutters. A thumb brushes the side of his mouth. “Who even are you, jesus.”  
  
“Just Thor,” Thor says softly. “When you didn’t reply for ten minutes I headed over. Helblindi let me in,” Thor tells him, gentle. His eyebrows are drawn up higher than Loki’s ever seen. “Glad I did, too.”  
  
“Yeah,” Helblindi’s voice comes from..from somewhere. They’re not alone, so this little strange display of shirt grabbing is now surely forever in Helblindi’s blackmail bank. “Scared the shit out of me, so thanks for that, asshole.”  
  
Loki huffs, swears at his brother. Thor helps him to sit up and he sways, glaring. Helblindi takes the hint and leaves.  
  
“Thank me for letting in your boyfriend later then I guess. Just saved your life is all.”  
  
“I just passed out. It’s not a big deal.”  
  
Thor snorts down at him. Loki sends him a look letting him know he’s next.  
  
Wait.  
  
“And he’s not my boyfriend!” Loki calls to Helblindi’s retreating back.  
  
Loki groans and then the world is tipping again. Why does the earth have to spin, it’s very unfair. He blinks and he’s leaning against Thor’s chest and Thor is hugging him and the hug is nice and warm and just tight enough and wow, he really wants to sleep—  
  
“Loki.” Then, “Loki, come on. We gotta talk.”  
  
“No we don’t. It’s hot and I’m in shock and you’re hot and I want to sleep. Sleep with me.”  
  
Thor’s laughter shakes him. It’s kind of like being on a boat, Loki thinks.  
  
“Do you float?” Loki mutters into a mouthful of shirt and Thor’s scent.  
  
Thor makes a confused sound.  
  
“Nevermind.”  
  
Silence drags for long, peaceful minutes, Thor rubbing Loki’s arm. Loki thinks he could actually doze like this. Against a stranger’s chest. Well, not a stranger. A neighbor. Not even that—so maybe they weren’t really strangers after all.  
  
Thor hums and the sound reverberates through Loki. “I didn’t know until yesterday. I would have told you if I had.”  
  
“Not in the mood for serious talks right now.”  
  
Thor mmhm’s. “Still, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Kind of weird to find out your neighbor’s been watching you do wild shit on the internet for a whole year, so maybe we’re both—”  
  
“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just surprised. And the heat has been awful.” They’re excuses. “You sure you still want to talk to a grey now? I’ve seen you squat eggs—”  
  
Thor grimaces above him and so Loki pulls away enough to meet his eyes. Thor is worried.  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Thor sighs.  
  
“I’ve watched you deep throat a cucumber, Thor.”  
  
The grimace twitches.  
  
“I’ve seen you jiggle your balls until you hit yourself on your own hand. You fell over onto the floor.”  
  
The twitch becomes a small smile, tugging at the corners of Thor’s mouth.  
  
“Not my best moments.”  
  
“You’re a nanotech scientist,” Loki reminds him, even though he can’t recall Thor’s full title right now.  
  
“Well, not yet technically. Not until next month when I start my new job.”  
  
Loki nods. “So that’s why you want to stop streaming?”  
  
Thor shrugs. Loki extricates himself from the warmth of his arms and so they sit, facing each other on Loki’s bedroom floor. He remembers his array of film posts over his bed and has to fight to keep himself from looking over to double check if there’s anything embarrassing.  
  
Thor’s not even looking that way besides. He’s looking at Loki, and only Loki, and in such a way that Loki feels like Thor’s never looked at anyone else. He stares and it’s too much.  
  
“It was time.”  
  
“You’re ThunderGod, Thor.”  
  
Aptly named, but he’s never going to admit that.  
  
Thor’s smile flickers bright and Loki realizes it doesn’t matter to him.  
  
“So,” Thor starts, and he sounds nervous. Unsure. Entirely unlike the last few days they’ve gotten to know each other—unlike the entire last year where ThunderGod has been a confident, sexy, laughs-off-any-issues personality. But right now, as Loki watches him, Thor fidgets. Picks at his nails, bounces his knee lightly. He blinks a lot too, and Loki realizes he made his choice the second he saw Thor’s face appear on screen. “I hope this doesn’t affect our dinner planning plans like I’m thinking it might? I understand if my streaming embarrasses or…or disgusts you. Not every partner can handle dating someone with that kind of past, but like I said I’m starting a new job and leaving this all behind me—”  
  
Loki leans forward and kisses Thor. It’s short and he sways a little too long at the tailend of it. Long enough actually that he has to brace himself on Thor’s bouncing knee to right himself as he pulls back.  
  
“If you’re asking me if your extensive jiggling disturbs me, the answer is a little, yes, but overall I think I can deal with it.” He smirks and Thor lets out a little burst of laughter, a mirror of the day before. “This is why you were acting so funny yesterday!”  
  
Thor shrugs again, sheepish.  
  
“And don’t think I’m going to just ignore how you just asked me to date you.”  
  
Thor sends him an offended look. “You just kissed me.”  
  
“Maybe I’m only in it for your looks,” he snarks. But Thor’s smile wavers and Loki squeezes his knee. “Joking. I was already starting to talk myself out of liking you yesterday but I—I really can’t. Is this crazy? It seems crazy.”  
  
“A little, maybe,” Thor says, smiling again. “We can reserve judgment until after the first date.”  
  
Loki grins and Thor beams and Loki knows it’s all very sappy at the moment and something he hates, often, to indulge in, but this—this is good. It’s crazy and ridiculous, maybe a little too convenient—but the way Thor is looking at him, the way he’s moving to grab up Loki’s hands and hold them…He’s happy. He’s overwhelmed.  
  
So Loki leans in for more kisses to chase away everything else.  
  
—  
  
**Two days later.**  
  
Loki has slept in too late. But he can’t find it in himself to care. Thor’s lying in bed beside him, hair a mess of curls shouting in all directions as he nuzzles closer to Loki the more Loki wakes and shifts. He brings an arm out from under the covers to pull a strand gently. Thor turns his face and Loki watches his brow scrunch in sleep. He smiles to himself, because if someone had told him a year ago he’d be here, today, with sore thighs and a dry throat he’d have laughed.  
  
His throat is very dry so he turns over as quietly as possible to grab at the water Thor grabbed them the night before. He swallows down half the bottle before grabbing for his phone. Thor’s is stacked on top of his and when he goes to move it, he accidentally presses the power button. Thor’s screen flashes up—a microscopic…something as his background—and a list of notifications.  
  
Loki blinks.  
  
He sees his friend’s name two down from the top. Krackaboom that is. It’s a notification for new updates he should install and that means—that means that…  
  
Loki is a moron.  
  
But he can salvage this, he can. He’s not a fool for long when he is one in the first place.  
  
Later, he’ll roll over and shift beneath the covers. He’ll take Thor in his mouth—and yes, it is as every inch glorious as he imagined it would be on his tongue—and when Thor comes, when he finally spills—Loki will pull off and tease him with, “Krackaboom!”  
  
And Thor, moan cut in half, will choke off a confused sound before meeting Loki’s amused, conspiratorial eyes—and laugh and laugh.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She really hates social media. But she keeps it because her friends have it. Who can fucking blame her right. Sometimes it pays off in funny pictures and videos of animals. Sometimes it helps with work, though rare.  
  
And sometimes, Sif knows, it satisfies the gossip that thrives in a small space probably somewhere under her right lung. Because sometimes she gets bored, and she gets an idea, and she just knows that idea has to be carried out to the fullest of her abilities. It’s her duty, sometimes, to make sure the good ideas are the most successful.  
  
So, when she opens one of her least favorite apps to scroll through her feed in boredom—she sees it. And with it comes a grin and that familiar accomplished feeling after receiving a payoff that was a long time coming.  
  
She even goes so far as to like the picture of her two friends. Loki is smiling so wide he’s showing teeth. And Thor has a popsicle stick tucked between his teeth poking at Loki’s cheek. They look happy. Really fucking happy. It’s kind of disgusting.  
  
She comments something along those lines. Leaves them to figure out the rest.  
  
“Took you idiots long enough,” Sif mutters, and goes back to doing real work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue Loki making a guest appearance on a last, last stream because they can't help themselves and Thor wants to show off his favorite grey in chat.


End file.
